


Once Upon a December

by stharridan



Series: December [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stharridan/pseuds/stharridan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jushiro should have known better than to hope for anything from the man, but what he gets far exceeds his own expectations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a December

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "Back to December."

Jushiro sat at his desk, reading through the paperwork that he'd completed for the day. After a hard day's work, he liked sitting back and reviewing what he'd done to check for mistakes and ensure that everything was flawless. He was pretty certain that he'd been meticulous enough during the actual process, but it never did hurt to have another run-through. It gave him a chance to unwind and relax his worked up mind.

After Jushiro set down the last piece of paper, satisfied with his work, his mind, strangely, wasn't as much at peace as he wanted it to be. Instead, the ache in his chest that had been ever present since two days ago was growing with each passing second. He put a hand over his heart and swivelled around in his chair to gaze out the window.

The day was nearly done, and the heavens above had turned dark and gloomy, a fitting reflection of what Jushiro felt within him at that very moment. Light flakes of snow drifted from above to rest atop roofs or join their white brethren on the streets. He couldn't help but smile at the image of a certain pink-haired child who opened her mouth as wide as she could and stuck out a tongue to catch a snowflake, giggling when it melted and the cold seeped in.

Jushiro let out a mild sigh and patted his aching chest in an effort to comfort himself. It didn't work all that much, but he didn't want to admit it – not even to his own conscience.

_Just be grateful, Ukitake. Worse things could happen._

With that thought in mind, Jushiro rose to his feet. He poured himself a cup of tea, took a sip – and nearly spat the bitter liquid out. With quite a bit of effort, he forced it down. He should have known, out of all things, that the tea was cold. The last time Kiyone replaced it was this morning, before she went to the Fourth Division barracks to meet up with her sister.

Jushiro swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat while the cold fluid settled at the bottom of his empty stomach. It growled, wanting to be fed. With another sigh, a retired one, he placed the unfinished cup of tea down and slumped in his chair. The prospect of going home to a big, empty manor wasn't very much appealing. Only servants walked the halls and corridors of the estate, going about their duties so quietly that they might as well not be there at all.

Absently, Jushiro wondered why it was called the Ukitake family estate when there was only one Ukitake left to run it. The thought led him to muse over how many birthdays his brothers and sisters never had the chance to celebrate.

Subconsciously drumming his fingertips on the desk, Jushiro was certain then, as he gazed over the thick, pristine blanket of snow smothering the Seireitei, that not celebrating one's birthday at all was, in a way, still better than celebrating it alone.

Jushiro let his eyes drift to a close, a self-pitying smile slowly spreading across his face. Well, at least Shunsui remembered. And Kiyone too. That was enough for him. But as he thought so, the little voice at the back of his mind turned against him, even calling him a liar.

Traitorous conscience... Gods forbid, but the actual truth couldn't be said any better. Shunsui, his best friend since they were mere infants, wasn't enough. For the first time in centuries, Jushiro still felt an emptiness inside of him despite being in the presence of the kimono-totting man.

Was it him being ungrateful, or just downright greedy?

No, Ukitake Jushiro was neither. He appreciated Shunsui, cherished him as a best friend. In their many years together, Shunsui had grown to be a part of him, and vice versa. If he were to lose Shunsui... Jushiro didn't even want to think about it.

And Kiyone? She was a lovely maiden and a reliable acting lieutenant. Jushiro had to thank her for all the work she and Sentaro did to lighten his burden. Years ago, when Kaien's death caught the wind, they had come running, tripping over their own feet, to his side and swearing total loyalty. The two of them had even wanted to stay back and help Jushiro, but he insisted they take the day off to spend time with their families. That was what the day was all about.

Jushiro's pondering brought him back to his own initial plight. It wasn't a crisis, no. He could let it go and return home like any other day, but most of him wanted to stay in the office and watch as the events unfolded. He didn't know what "events" in particular, but he decided to stay back and wait. Wait for something...someone that had a better chance at washing his hopes down the drain than granting them.

Jushiro felt a sudden itch in his nose, and the next thing he knew he was sneezing and coughing at the same time. His hands automatically scrambled for the tea cup. Wrapping his fingers around it, he drained the cold tea, screwing his eyes shut at the unpleasant bitterness. Once he was sure that the liquid had settled down, he leaned back in the chair with a sigh, closing his eyes again.

_Wonderful day indeed, Jushiro._

If only Kiyone was here, she'd have a steaming pot of freshly brewed tea right before Jushiro's nose in a heartbeat. And maybe a sweet cake or two to settle his demanding stomach before the trip back home. But Jushiro didn't regret his decision on giving her and the rest of his division members the day off. It was the festive season – well, maybe not here in Soul Society but in the World of the Living it was – and they deserved it for their constant diligence.

Coming to think of it, if Jushiro hadn't been so thick-headed and instead accepted the hand of one of the many girls Shunsui had picked out for him for marriage, he wouldn't have to be sitting here in his office alone with a lousy heater and wallowing in self-pity. And there would be another Ukitake in the manor.

Apart from Shunsui's harem, Kiyone was also a good candidate. She was more reliable than Shun's girls, with a sense of wearing decent clothes and keeping her mouth shut whenever she wasn't spoken to.

Acting Lieutenant Kotetsu Kiyone was wife material and, given her already present and obvious admiration for her captain, was the perfect match above others-

Jushiro gave himself a slap on the forehead. "Perfect match above others"? Preposterous. What in the Seireitei's name was he thinking? And...wife? He had absolutely no plans for that. Spending time with Shunsui and his Nanao-chan must have twisted his sense of logic. It really wasn't a _wife_ that Jushiro wanted...

Just when he was about to call himself seven kinds of stupid, the corridor outside thundered with loud, heavy, rushed footsteps and the door to the office burst open. All Jushiro could do was blink in shock, frozen to his chair, at the breathless man standing before him.

Zaraki Kenpachi, at one glance, looked like he had just been dragged out of bed in the wee hours of dawn and forced to run laps around Soul Society and maybe even Las Noches, combating a herd of Menos Grandes while a blizzard raged on. The man was slightly panting and, even though it was cold and snowing, sweating. His long, tousled hair, oddly enough, was down and splayed loosely about his snow-covered shoulders.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation from the stunned, white-haired captain, Kenpachi strode in and dropped a small box wrapped in plain brown paper on the desk. Jushiro could only stare up at him. Unbeknownst to even himself, his eyes tried to catch Kenpachi's, but the terror of the Eleventh Division was intent on not having anything to do with him.

Kenpachi turned his back on him. Jushiro's fingers were gripping the edge of the armrests so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, stark ivory against his already pale skin. His mouth dry and speechless, all he could do was watch as Kenpachi marched towards the door without even a second glance back at him. The ache in his chest drastically grew with each step the man took away from him, widening the gap between them.

But then, much to Jushiro's confusion and sudden hope, Kenpachi stopped short. His fists tightened, nails digging into palms with enough force to leave bruises. A small scoff left him before he finally gave into his own inner desire and turned his head just slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jushiro staring at him, as blank as a newborn. With a sudden flare of rage that caused his spiritual pressure to blast throughout the room, Kenpachi whirled around, seething between his teeth.

"The fuck are ye starin' at? Open that goddamn thing already!" he snapped, fists trembling with sudden and unreasonable fury. Maybe he should have thrown that piece of shit right in the man's face after all.

It had been days since Jushiro saw him, and he knew he'd feel an overwhelming joy if he so much as caught a glimpse of him. But now, having the man right in his office on this particular day was really the best gift he could have asked for. Ignoring the sudden outburst, he let his eyes roam over Kenpachi, taking in the sight of the large captain, but when they came to rest on his face, the smile that had been slowly creeping up his own vanished altogether.

The look on the man's expression said that if the brown package wasn't opened in the next five seconds, there was going to be hell to pay.

Forcing himself to divert his eyes away from Kenpachi, Jushiro took the small box in his hands and inspected it – an act that was really quite dumb judging on how _plain_ the wrapping paper was. A low growl of warning made Jushiro tear the paper off and, opening the equally candid cardboard box, fish out what looked like a...

"What is this?" he blurted, peering into the glass sphere that could be no bigger than his own fist, set firmly on a flat base so that it could be placed on a surface without rolling about. Inside it was a miniature plastic set comprising a little cottage and a sled filled to the brim with tiny packages wrapped in colourful paper. Some packages had fallen over the edge and were buried in the luxuriously white blanket. Attached to the sled by reins was a pair of reindeer.

Jushiro thought that it was rather odd that only one reindeer had a red, plump nose, but the festive scene the plastic dolls created caused an enlightening smile to spread across Jushiro's face.

Jushiro continued to examine the little glass sphere in curiosity and, as Kenpachi watched from the doorway, he felt his anger slight and give way to a sense of pride that overcame the anxiety that had been nagging at the back of his mind. A grin tugged at the corners of the man's mouth as Jushiro tapped the glass and shook it, blinking in puzzlement as the movement triggered flakes of artificial snow within the sphere to float about.

"It's what 'em humans call a snow globe." He folded his arms across his chest, ignoring his freezing fingers, and leaned against the door frame. "Turn it upside down."

Jushiro did as he was told, and blinked in pleasant surprise when the snow from the ground started falling. The flakes gathered at the bottom of the sphere, and when he tipped it over again, the snow drifted from above to rest back on the ground, cloaking the cottage, sled and reindeer as well. It was a perfect replica of the scene outside the window, save for the buildings of the Seireitei.

Jushiro couldn't keep his smile from widening.

"Humans really are somethin', eh?" Kenpachi said absently, unknowingly echoing Jushiro's thoughts.

"Yes." He caressed the glass with a thumb as warmth spread throughout his very being, melting the bitter emptiness. "Indeed, they are."

To think that Kenpachi actually... Jushiro swallowed the chuckle that he wanted to let out right then and there for fear of being seen as a captain who had gone insane from...loneliness. There, he admitted it. But it was normal, wasn't it?

 _No, it's not_.

The evil little voice at the back of his mind whispered into his ear, mocking. It wasn't normal for a captain to be spending the festive season with no one other than paperwork to keep him company, in a mundane office with nothing more than a barely functioning heater. It wasn't normal; it was sad, and Jushiro himself knew it yet he still wanted to live in denial.

A sudden thought struck him right then, and he looked up to see Kenpachi staring out the window with his lips pursed, giving off the impression that he had something to say but was unsure of what implications his words would bring.

"Where is Yachiru?"

Kenpachi gave a scoff. "Shootin' snowballs at Ikkaku's bald head. If ye want t'see her that much, why not come on over to the barracks?" There was a bitter tang in his tone that Jushiro couldn't ignore. He drummed his fingertips on the glass sphere – snow globe – and tried again.

"Should you not be with her?"

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, for it made Kenpachi get off the wall in an instant with an irritated glare directed straight at Jushiro.

"Maybe I should. I'll leave ye to yer goddamn paperwork then. I got better things t'do anyway, like havin' snow stuffed up my ass." There were more words that Kenpachi wanted to spill forth, but he - surprisingly - managed to control himself. Biting his bottom lip to seal the other more hurtful phrases away, he turned and stormed out the door.

So that was what he got after all his hard work? To hell with fancy presents and superfluous greetings – the goddamn son of a bitch didn't know how to appreciate others' goodwill. He should have known that nobles were all the same, just like Princess Kuchiki and his pretty as fuck face.

Kenpachi had only taken two steps when he felt long, slender fingers wrap around his wrist. He tugged away with a snarl, but the tight grip didn't waver in the slightest.

"Captain Zaraki, listen to me," Jushiro said firmly, his free hand and left foot stopping the door before it could slam shut in his face. He contemplated using kido to bind the captain and freeze him in place, but thankfully the large man gave in and turned to meet Jushiro's eyes. His spiritual pressure was still unstable, reflecting the emotions that had resurfaced and raged within him, but Jushiro's will was steadfast as ever. There was not a single chance that he was going to let Kenpachi go again.

"So it's ' _Captain Zaraki'_ now to ye, huh?" Kenpachi spat, releasing himself from the white-haired man's grip. "When the hell did we get so formal, Ukitake?"

Jushiro shut the door behind him and positioned himself between it and the large man. If he wanted to leave, he'd have to step over Jushiro's very dead body.

"Cap-" Jushiro mentally slapped himself and decided not to say his name just yet. "...I haven't heard from you for quite some time. Where have you been?"

"Che." Kenpachi rubbed the back of his neck, numb to the sudden shock when his freezing hand came in contact with heat. "The fuck should I tell ye? If ye were that worried, I'd figure ye'd come by the division for a check-up."

Jushiro bit back the string of reasons why he couldn't leave the confines of the Thirteenth Division, partly because Kenpachi _should_ know why. He was beginning to get rather irritated with the man. Storming into an ill captain's office and lashing out accusations wasn't really the way to go during a day when families were supposed to get together and have a toast.

Not trusting his own tongue, Jushiro turned his face away and stared out the window. Snow was beginning to fall even more steadily than before, but it didn't do much of coating the already smothered streets and rooftops with its white flakes. A deafening silence filled with nothing less than extreme unease hung in the stale air. Jushiro could feel his heart pounding against the walls of his chest; each thump rang like a gong in his ears.

Jushiro couldn't bring himself to look at Kenpachi straight in the eye, because he feared that if he even tried, he'd see the image of a sickly, lovelorn hermit of a captain who didn't deserve the friendly and amorous attentions showered upon him.

A slight movement in his peripheral vision made Jushiro look up to find Kenpachi leaning against the edge of the desk, gazing at the snow globe in his hand. He observed the man for a while, letting his eyes roam once again over the familiar contours of flesh and muscle, and scarred hide. If Kenpachi knew that he was being watched, he didn't show any signs of acknowledgement.

Jushiro then decided that this was not the time for an argument to take place, and took a step towards the man. Kenpachi's single grey eye instantaneously focused on him, making Jushiro stop dead in his tracks. Mustering up his courage that had waned when the coarse captain had first set foot in the office, Jushiro smoothed down the front of his haori and took another step – a smaller one this time.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, gesturing, almost crookedly, at the snow globe.

"I didn't find it. I bought it," Kenpachi snapped. "Ye make it sound like I'm some kinda half-assed scavenger."

"That's not what I meant, Kenpachi," Jushiro said, sternly this time. He had had enough of the other man's penchant for jumping to conclusions so easily.

All Kenpachi did was scoff in nonchalance, seemingly oblivious to Jushiro's sudden change of tone. "What the hell happened to 'Captain Zaraki'?"

But Jushiro knew better. He would be an inexcusable fool if he didn't know how Zaraki Kenpachi's mind – and body – worked after all these years. Ignoring the glare that threatened to burn a hole through his very body, Jushiro approached him and, in a rather straightforward manner, plucked the snow globe right from Kenpachi's grip – much to the larger man's surprise. Placing the little ornament on the desk, Jushiro reached out and took Kenpachi's hands in his own.

Zaraki immediately jerked away with a menacing growl that, to Jushiro, sounded a little too forced. He was more than accustomed to Kenpachi's threats. Before, the demon would actually mean those threats, but over the years, trust accumulated and eventually, those words and phrases became nothing more than empty promises of agony and death.

Jushiro kept a firm grip on Kenpachi's icy hands as he brought them up to his lips. He let out a warm breath, caressing Kenpachi's knuckles soothingly with a thumb as his fingers twitched at the sudden contact with heat.

"Why didn't you wear those gloves I bought for you?" Jushiro asked, looking up at him.

"Che." Kenpachi turned away, guilt creeping into his heart. He knew the gloves were _some_ where in his room, but he had been in such a rush when he went out that the thought of wearing them never occurred to him.

Settling his eyes on Kenpachi's hair, Jushiro tried hard to refrain from laughing. That was the first thing that he had noticed when the man entered the office, but had been too preoccupied with his sudden presence to pay it more attention. Now he could indulge in the rare sight of seeing bits of snow in Kenpachi's hair and flakes on his shoulders, and he wasn't going to waste it. Kenpachi seemed to know what he was thinking about, for he shot a glare at Jushiro that told him to shut up.

With an easy smile, Jushiro brushed the snow from his shoulders and hair while Kenpachi stood there, frowning his disapproval. The flakes fell upon the desk and floor, but Jushiro took no heed to them.

"What about the snow cap?"

"Who the hell can predict the damn whether?" Kenpachi shot back, a strong surge of embarrassment enforcing the already present guilt. To be honest, he had lost the hat while being forced to play in the snow with Yachiru. He hadn't even realized that it was gone till the next morning, and when he went back to look for it, shreds of a familiar fabric were all he found.

Jushiro merely nodded with a smile and a soft chuckle at Kenpachi's retort, bringing his hands to his lips and breathing warmth upon them once more. But Jushiro knew better. Whether Kenpachi was lying or telling the truth, or doing both at the same time, he would always know, and always he'd keep his mouth shut.

Following Jushiro's gentle care, colour began to return to Kenpachi's hands and soon, they were once again bathed in the shade of his usual, healthy tan.

Kenpachi flexed his fingers, relieved that they weren't numb any more. Jushiro smiled in satisfaction, and Kenpachi couldn't help but give way to his... _cursed_ adoration for the man. With the simplest of gestures, he never failed to expose the other side of him. Most would scoff at the idea of Kenpachi having another side, but just because he was one of the strongest captains of the Gotei 13, and the one with insatiable blood lust, didn't mean that that was all there was to him.

Kenpachi was a person with many layers and, so far, only Yachiru and Jushiro had been patient enough to unravel them and reach his very core.

Giving into inner desires against his own will, Kenpachi slid his fingers from Jushiro's chin along his jawline. Jushiro felt his skin prickle at the hair-raising contact, one he hadn't experienced for days. No words could describe just how much he missed being touched by the man before him.

Slowly sliding his fingertips, returning them to Jushiro's chin, Kenpachi tipped his head back. Before Jushiro knew it, he felt rough, chapped lips upon his own. Hot breath intermingled with his as he parted his lips and welcomed the tongue that plunged eagerly into his awaiting cavern. Slim masses of wet, raw muscle intertwined like long lost lovers, hungry and desperate for the other.

And when Jushiro was about to fall into the arms of pure bliss, Kenpachi pulled away, but only slightly. He held the other captain's face in his hands, gently but firmly. Jushiro felt chills running up his spine as the piercing grey eye reminiscent of the storm gazed into his own. There was a wild, complex mixture of emotions in that eye. Longing, relief, admiration, love – they reflected Jushiro's very own feelings that he had stored and hid away in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart.

"Ye like it then?" Kenpachi murmured, his breath hot on Jushiro's face. He was then caught by surprise when the other burst out with a chuckle.

"Have you been eating chocolate? I thought you didn't like them." Jushiro eyed him with a knowing look. The man was famous for his steadfast dislike for sweet concoctions. Spending years with a child obsessed with candy had left a mark on him.

"Shut up," Kenpachi growled, but he was unable to mask the affection in his voice. "Ye like it or not?"

Jushiro let his eyelids drift to a close as a slow smile crept up his face. His thumbs caressed Kenpachi's knuckles, trying to soothe the tempest that raged within both of them, brought on by hidden desires and, gods forbid, shameless lust.

"You do know that it's a little too late for it to be considered as a birthday gift, don't you?"

"Che, so what?" Kenpachi withdrew – much to Jushiro's disappointment – and leaned against the desk, folding his arms across his chest. "It's the damn thought that counts, right?"

True.

Jushiro was amazed that Kenpachi had actually remembered what he told him about presents. He was about to nod and smile when a sneeze overtook him, followed closely by a fit of coughing. Kenpachi poured a cup, handed it to Jushiro and watched as his companion squeezed his eyes shut and drained the tea.

"Don't ye turn yer heatin' on?"

"Let's just say that the heater is rather rusty." Jushiro shook his head to ward off any further questions, placing the piece of china on the desk. He had asked Sentaro to get it fixed, but after only two or three days, it needed repairing again. Jushiro eventually gave up on it, enduring the winter with layers upon layers of thick clothes.

He made a mental note to purchase a new heating system once Kiyone and Sentaro returned.

"Never knew ye could be that stupid, Ukitake." Kenpachi yawned, popping the bones in the back of his neck. At the mention of his surname, Jushiro looked at him sharply.

"Pardon?"

Kenpachi exhibited a feral grin, one of the many things that Jushiro, strangely, found somewhat endearing about him.

"Ye don't need a goddamn heater when I'm 'round."

It took several moments for Jushiro to decipher his words, but after seeing the glint in Kenpachi's single, storm-grey eye, there was no doubt in Jushiro's mind that the man was damn right. A shiver ran up his spine as Kenpachi leaned down and brushed his dry, chapped lips against Jushiro's ear.

"Merry fuckin' Christmas, Uki."

And Jushiro let out a laugh of joy that hadn't left his lips for quite some time as he was swept into the warmth of his lover's arms.


End file.
